


Magazine

by goddamnitaisha, Lilly_White



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnitaisha/pseuds/goddamnitaisha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_White/pseuds/Lilly_White
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth mentally denies being attracted to Genesis and thus aggressively masturbates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magazine

**Author's Note:**

> SKYPE CONVERSATION
> 
> Sephiroth [Aisha]: In the Discipline-AU, if Genesis’ image is indeed splattered on the front of every damn magazine, and there are images of him almost-naked inside and Sephiroth would start crushing… there is a guarantee that Sephiroth will angrily, very angrily, masturbate while looking at the pages.  
> Lilly-White: OH MY GOD  
> Lilly-White: I am currently boobs deep in my philosophy essay but that just made me SPIT OUT MY COFFEE OH YES  
> Lilly-White: Please please let’s include that it discipline, that would be so perfect  
> Lilly-White: and the magazine covers are just. Gen being on them is like ingrained in my headcanon now anyway, whatever AU we might write. xD  
> Sephiroth [Aisha]: Yes well …yes.  
> Sephiroth [Aisha]: Yes let’s do that.  
> Sephiroth [Aisha]: And I’m sorry you spit out your coffee but it’s something Sephiroth would do.  
> Lilly-White: I just LOVE that you used the words “angrily masturbate”  
> Lilly-White: that is just  
> Lilly-White: the best mental image I’ve had oh god  
> Lilly-White: just like wearing a very self-disciplinary frown while he’s at it  
> Lilly-White: “I shouldn’t be doing this I shouldn’t be doing this FUCK”  
> Lilly-White: it is literally the most perfect sexualisation of his character ever.

**MAGAZINE**

Before office hours, Sephiroth angrily ordered several magazines online: among the regular ones he ordered an issue of _Soldier Spectatorial._ Genesis was on the cover, his face and shirtless torso free of text.

Later that day he was in a constant state of exasperation, as he wondered _why_ he had done that. It was interchanged with periods of anticipation of when the magazines would arrive. They did, at 3:28 P.M.

At the end of the day he took them out of his letterbox. He rolled them up in his fist and he went home, half-hoping he’d be seen because then maybe he could justify the move to another person when he couldn’t justify it to himself.

He arrived at his personal quarters and threw the six magazines on the desk. He made dinner, tried to work, but those magazines…. he couldn’t get them out of his head. He stared at the stack. He put his pen to the paper. He looked up again. He reached out and his fingers ran over the backs and he put the one with Genesis on top.

Genesis was _smiling._

"Hmph,” he looked back at the report in front of him. He aggressively crossed out certain words on the page. “He’s all vanity," he tried to console himself. "All body and vanity. It’s a waste that such a promising SOLDIER is trapped in such narcissism."

But a part of him was actually glad that Genesis was as narcissistic as could be, because that meant Sephiroth could enjoy the sight of him without it counting as _stalking_.

He worked his way through the first layer of paperwork. He sorted, graded, assessed, approved, denied. He took the next report, and the next, and then - halted.

_This one is from Rhapsodos._

He carefully put it down in front of him, ran his hand over the cover, opened it. There were five pages within, all standard printed sheets about training progress, with standard answers. He read it once, twice, and he was able to recite it after the fourth time.

He ran his gloved hand over his face and sagged in his chair. He thought about what was about to do. He denied it. He refused it.

He bit his index finger, pulled the glove off with his teeth. His hand was warm. He ran it over the tight leather of his crotch area.

For several minutes, he just glared at the magazine on top of the stack. It was hardly night yet. Quit frankly this was a terrible idea, but the idea was there. Maybe he could view this as a mission, one he had to act out?

And so he pulled the magazine to him with his right hand, his left hand balling to a fist. He flipped the pages until he found images of that terrible narcissist half-undressed at Costa del Sol. Sephiroth’s hand dipped in his trousers and he took Masamune out. He was alone, it was after work, he would not be called, he would not be interrupted. He could- he ought to finish work. Genesis was his _friend_.

_If only he didn’t have legs like that._

“He’s my friend,” his voice sounded raspy, rough. He looked at the photos and started stroking himself. His hand tightened and suddenly he was gasping and there was nothing he could do. The prickling sensation of pleasure shot through his thighs and his spine and he arched his back in his chair -

He flipped to the next page. Genesis was wearing jeans and a mid-season jacket with nothing underneath, bare chested - half naked - _insufferably_ revealing. He stood with his chin down and grinned like a demon who knew no limits. There were pearls of sweat scattered over his chest like glitter under the Costa sunlight.

_Why would they make him wear a coat?_

Sephiroth gritted his teeth, tried to rationalize and analyse in order to stave off the rush of blood he could feel. It was making him giddy.

_This is a bad photoshoot. If it weren’t Genesis it wouldn’t have any value at all._

His spine settled back into his chair as he slowed and frowned. His critical senses overpowered the surge of sensation, _The horizon is off axis, why didn’t they fix that in the editing process?_

But then he flipped to the next page where Genesis had the jacket slung over one shoulder. He stood in the darkness of a hot Costa evening, hanging an arm casually around a lamppost. The metal pole pressed between his thighs as he looked up at the light, baring that throat that desperately needed strangling

And Sephiroth grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall of that sandy Costan house. If he crashed their lips together, Genesis’ noises would be muffled. Sephiroth could kick Genesis’ feet apart, press his knee against his captive’s crotch.

This was _Genesis_. Fuck.

The mental image make his fingers curl around his member, and he pushed the trousers, underwear, further down. Next page, he needed the next page.

Genesis on the beach - boring. Shirtless Genesis in the sun, holding out a cocktail drink to the viewer - this looked better. His bedroom eyes sparkle in the photo, and the camera was reflected in them. Sephiroth imagined slamming the glass from his hand and yanking him close. They’d kiss.

He’d kick Genesis’ feet away from under his body. The other SOLDIER would drop on his knees, growling and protesting, until his mouth would be forced onto Sephiroth’s hard cock. Instantly he would revert back to being the big-eyed young man the General had seen at their first encounter. That version of Genesis had been fighting for breath while being trapped under Sephiorth’s knee on the floor of director Lazard’s office. Just like he was fighting for breath now.

He wanted to choke him on his had dick, choke that gorgeous face until his cheeks burned red and his eyes leaked tears. Genesis would struggle, he’d grasp the rungs of Sephiroth’s belt-line and yank at his hips in an attempt to pull him aside - because Sephiroth wouldn’t accept blind submission from him, no, that would be counter-nature.

He was not thinking about the photoshoot anymore: the sand and the flawless blue sky had dribbled to the steel-grey and dull teal of Lazard’s office.

Sephiroth’s head is tilted back against his own chair as the scenario of their first encounter bled into his memory: how he had felt Genesis’ pulse against his fingers, vivid, rapid pounding, how he had looked up with that enraged expression - wonderful.

Sephiroth imagined Angeal and Lazard going out of the room to leave him to play out their disciplinary exercise. His free hand would come down to Genesis’ spine, move past his buttocks, press down between his thighs… He imagined Genesis growling with shame, and arousal, and some sort of tangled desire that mirrors his own - but it was too close to home, the fantasy far too tangible.

He sat up straight, green eyes opening as his own shame crushes the mental images. His brows crumpled into an annoyed frown. He needed something unreal. He flipped through another page.

The next pages were behind-the-scenes photos of Genesis handing out autographs of himself to the crew, and him struggling with the jacket, running towards a wave, and flirting with the crew. The girl he flirted with is tall, with white hair, black clothes, and a camera slung around her neck. She’s obviously not a RedLeather fan. Though Genesis’s body attitude is flirty, he stared directly at the camera, as if he was seeing Sephiroth masturbate and was witnessing it from the page. There was shock, and joy, and wickedness in his eyes.

_See,_ he says, _I knew you would._

And the magazine flutters through the room and smacks to the ground and Sephiroth is rubbing himself hard. He’s arching in his chair, eyes closed. His silver hair falls behind him and he’s sweating, the leather of his coat keeping the warmth until it burned at his back. He imagined he is ramming his dick into the redhead: ass, mouth, it didn’t matter, but he needed to come. He needed to splatter his hot semen all over that cocky grin. Rhapsodos would be begging for it.

_Is that the best you can do?_ Genesis asked, the voice rang clear in his mind.

He slammed his fist on the desk. He moved his fist up, and down, up, down, pounding into the other’s mouth. The controlled General Sephiroth came. He came harder than he liked, he moaned. Every muscle of his body tensed as the ring of his damp hand pressed against the base of his cock. A series of spasms pulled through him, hips bucking forth. White light soared through his mind like a revelation. For a second all of his world was calm and content. He drifted. Then the feeling melted away. He tried to hold on to it, keep it, but the orgasm faded and he was left alone in his empty room, at his desk.

"…."

It felt horrible. He’d come all over the papers, white semen staining the red ink of Genesis’ report.  He was tired, and put the back of his hand over his eyes. His other fist hit the desk, weakly.

Genesis. He had jacked off while thinking about _Genesis_.

He sighed. He opened his drawer, grabbed paper tissues he had up to now only used for spilled tea. He cleaned himself up. He tried to clean the pages, but the ink stained. He threw the tissues in the bin, yanked his coat off. He looked through his big room and zipped down his boots, undressed until he was dressed in nothing but his underwear.

He confined himself to the bathroom. He turned on the tap and washed his sticky hand. He dried off. He looked up through his white hair and he saw himself in the mirror above the sink. He instantly looked away, he couldn’t bear the _sight_ of himself. He sat down at the edge of the bath. The bright bathroom was too big, he confined himself to the shower cubicle in the furthest corner of the room.

The glass trapped specimen S. It put its back against the wall, and sank down to the tiles. It pulled up its knees, grabbed its ankles. It bowed its head down, hiding its face behind a curtain of long silver hair.

 

**EPILOGUE**

"The next morning, Sephiroth buzzes Genesis into his office as usual, to give him his training schedule. He hesitates with his finger on the buzzer before pressing it, feeling suddenly overly hot in his leathers. It won’t do to be distracted by this man - it was just a one-off thing, after all, they’ve all been under pressure lately with Lazard bullying everyone to fit his new hierarchy planning.

He does _not_ find Genesis sexually attractive. He just - the man is- in those photos, he hardly looked like himself at all. Photoshopped and endlessly tweaked to fit the stereotypes.

The door opens, and Genesis steps in. He’s wearing combat trousers, boots, and nothing else except bandages around his wrists, to protect his muscles as Sephiroth had shown him.

Sephiroth tenses imperceptibly. It’s jarringly obvious that the magazine people actually hadn’t photoshopped that much.

"Sorry," the soon-to-be commander lets out in a breath. "I was late to the warm-up, but I’m ready, I’m ready. Which group do I have first?"

"Lateness isn’t tolerated at this level," Sephiroth says, and Genesis bows his head with satisfying submission. Sephiroth finds himself straightening at this acknowledgement of his authority. "Don’t let it happen again.

Genesis looks up at him then, with that familiar crooked grin.

Suddenly Sephiroth feels like he’s staring at that magazine photo again, with his fingers around his throbbing cock and his lip between his teeth and Genesis, gazing at him _insolently_ through the camera lens -

"What, you never have late nights, sir?" Genesis asks him

There’s a small silence.

"I will have you stand to attention, SOLDIER," Sephiroth all but growls at him.

Genesis fluidly slips into the posture, the dim office lights shifting over his abs and his svelt waistline.

Sephiroth looks away. “When we are in here, or even, whenever you are in my company, however informal the context - you will observe protocol. You will obey.”

Genesis is grinning a devil’s grin, but Sephiroth can’t see.

\- “Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
